KDs are designed/developed/inspired/mused/auto-suggested/indigested to make folks think; an especially uncommon experience among Democrats, Republicans, and jingoistic mainline denominationalists who continue to discourage dissent with their ever-threatening thought police.

Friday, April 27, 2018

Everyone of every age no matter who, what, when, where, or why needs God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Sovereign Father.

Saving Son.

Sustaining Holy Spirit.

Some of our sisters and brothers in His family like to say, “We need God to keep keepin’ on!”

Amen.

I remember a friend of mine being interviewed many years ago by a pastor search committee in Rochester, New York who was asked to pray.

He began, “Father,…”

After the prayer, someone with an agenda - we’ll call her a denominational gatekeeper who was part of the interview - said, “I was offended by your prayer because you used ‘Father’ in reference to God.”

My friend responded, “Well, if that’s how Jesus referred to God, that’s good enough for me.”

He didn’t get the job; which was good because he has served Father, Son, and Holy Spirit with distinction for over four decades and it would have been a disaster if he had been called to that church because he believes in Jesus by the book and that church has often been known as one of the most whacked in the franchise.

Moretheless, God is much bigger and better than we can imagine and defies human definitions of His character; as revealed in Isaiah 66:12-13 when God reveals divinity as not limited to male metaphors of understanding and experience: “I will make peace flow like a river…you will nurse and be carried on her hip, and bounced on her lap. As a mother comforts her son, so I will comfort you, and you will be comforted in Jerusalem.”

Listen to Peterson’s translation/paraphrase: “I’ll pour robust well-being into her like a river…You’ll nurse at her breasts, nestle in her bosom, and be bounced on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so I’ll comfort you.”

Wow!

That sure pokes holes into gender chauvinism.

Praise God for God being bigger and better than our limited and often twisted anthropomorphisms!

Whether it was the specific historical context of God reassuring His people that there would be life after exile and suffering in Jerusalem or the very contemporary reassurance for parts of His family who are suffering in a world increasingly hostile to people trying to follow Jesus by the book, God told us through Isaiah that divine love is not gender specific or limited and defies definition.

I think of the attempt of the Westminster Assembly of clergy and other notables who tried to define God in their early 16th century confession and catechisms. Here’s The Shorter Catechism’s shot at Him: “God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal and unchangeable, in His being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth” (Q&A 4). In other words, God is bigger and better than our best attempts to comprehend and define Him; which is why Luther concluded, “Let God be God!”

The maternal metaphor of Isaiah 66 reminds us that we always have a “home” with God. There is a tender, warm, cuddling, and suckling relationship between God and us as God’s children that may invoke an image of God as the helicopter mom always ready to kiss our “boo-boos” and rescue us from bullies and provide the safest refuge.

That’s good to remember in these changing and challenging days.

Indeed, it’s being said that while we need another great awakening of faith in America, we’re experiencing a great unraveling of faith, morality, and everything that has made America so exceptional.

Everything seems to falling apart even in churches that used to be rock solid - as in faithful to Jesus by the book - pillars of sanity, stability, safety, and security.

Not anymore.

You can go down the street from just about any church still praying and trying to follow Jesus by the book and hear messages and watch witnesses about/to anything/anyone but Him.

A frustrated priest expressed this sadness and fear for the parish bulletin’s front page of St. Patrick’s Church in Madison, Wisconsin back on February 7, 1965:

Latin’s gone, peace is too.

Singin’ and shoutin’ from every pew.

Altar’s turned around, priest is too.

Commentators yellin’, “Page 22.”

Communion rail’s gone. Stand up straight!

Kneelin’ suddenly went out of date.

Processions are formin’ in every aisle.

Salvation’s organized. Single file!

Rosary’s out! Psalms are in!

Hardly ever hear a word against sin.

Listen to the lector. Hear how he reads.

Please stop rattlin’ them rosary beads.

Padre’s lookin’ puzzled. Doesn’t know his part.

Used to know the whole deal in Latin by heart.

I hope all the changes are just about done.

That they don’t drop bingo before I’ve won.

Well, the changes aren’t just about done; and it’s gonna take God’s best parental – motherly and fatherly - affection and strength to survive, overcome, and anticipate the ultimate victory.

Life on the corner of Lincoln and Main in Belvidere, Illinois comes to mind.

While I’m good for another decade or two, I feel a very strong call to help prepare our family of faith for the inevitabilities of these rapidly changing and challenging days.

Specifically, I see three undeniable realities testing all American churches.

While it doesn’t make sense for America to turn its back on Christianity when only Jesus and people who authentically follow Him by the red letters are inviting, including, welcoming, and agape loving regardless of color, class, and culture, only the intellectually dishonest and existentially ignorant have missed the assaults on America’s spiritual roots.

America has been the exception to that global rule since birth; but that “melting pot” experiment of positive inclusion is dissipating, decaying, and dying as America increasingly distances itself from its Biblically Christocentric roots.

Dan Pope, one of Belvidere’s most faithful pastors at Open Bible Church, recently sent these lines to me from Douglas MacKinnon who is a former White House and Pentagon official: “How long will I be allowed to remain a Christian?…With each passing month, that shocking question becomes more relevant and even more disturbing…In various parts of the Middle East, there is a genocidal cleansing of Christians…Women, men, and their young children are being slaughtered because of their faith and world leaders and most of the media turn their backs in bored indifference…Here in the United States, Christians and Christianity are mocked, belittled, smeared and attacked…This is a bigoted practice that is not only increasing exponentially, but is being encouraged and sanctioned by a number on the left…If you are a practicing Christian in the United States and open about it, you, your congregation and your organization will become a target of some sort. It is only a matter of time.”

Anyone needing illustrations of that reality is part of the opioid crisis in the country.

✤God knows we know churches are very slow about many things because they often long for the way things never were or maybe were but are no more and resist change even more than Americans who refuse to admit our two-party political system is rigged, corrupt, inefficacious, and no longer dedicated to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness except for those that we have been carelessly ignorant enough to keep electing.

I’m not going to catalogue illustrations here either because, as bikers like to say, “If I have to explain it to you, you wouldn’t understand anyway.” I’ll add, “…because you’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid and think what hasn’t worked in years will work again now which gives clarity to one definition of insanity.”

Some churches refuse to change because they must believe because they sure act as if God is dead and not alive and active among His people in new-wineskining kinda ways.

Yes, some changes are bad – the ones that don’t honor Jesus by the book.

Pero there are others that prove God is alive and active among His people with fresh wine/opportunities being poured into wineskins/churches for their increased intimacy with Him and efficacy for Him along with graces from Him.

Pero like Jesus said in that parable, some churches go with His flow and are blessed while others crack, crumble, and continue to decline as they resist His ameliorations.

That’s a segue for saying another change and challenge for today’s churches is we are living in a post-denominational age.

Except for denominational idolaters who talk more about being whatever than being Christian and other Biblical and Christological illiterates, this is great news because God did not incarnate in Jesus, live, die, rise, and now reign as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit to enable such tribalism that authentic Christians defy because it insults God who has gone to such passionately crucifying and gloriously resurrecting extremes to bring us together in/through/for Jesus.

Denominations are dying to everyone and dead to almost everyone under 60.

Long live the Kingdom!

It will.

His Kingdom not humanly fashioned denominations is eternal!

✤An inevitably imminent financial crunch will force churches to restructure, re-staff, and review their lives and ministries as the Korean and WWII generation, the ones who are paying most of the bills, go home to Jesus.

While the Korean and WWII generations view giving to churches as obligatory, most baby boomers and almost all GenXers, millennials, and GenZers view giving to churches as discretionary; and they don’t think enough of churches to fit ‘em into their financial stewardship.

While the Korean and WWII generations are givers, their successors are mostly consumers with the former notoriously renowned for helping hands while the latters have their hands out more often than not.

Millennials are probably among the most articulate in explaining why they aren’t into church these days.

Big on a relationship with Jesus, they aren’t really interested in religion about Jesus and have been especially turned off by churches that don’t walk the talk of Jesus.

They hear lots of choral/rehearsed/robotic/rote commitments to loving Jesus pero see so many pewsitters and pulpiteers making irascible, irregular, and irreconcilable noises that they don’t want what churches offer.

That’s just a thumbnail sketch.

Moretheless, churches, regardless of franchise or ideology or being conservative or liberal or up or down or all around, are about to be forced to make radical changes because of radically reduced income.

The preceding may sound pejorative.

It’s not.

Changes and challenges are opportunities to honor God.

With the undeniably increasing hostility to Christianity in our world and even in America along with living in a post-denominational age and less money for ministry because those who are paying the bills are decreasing in number as they head home to Jesus, we are prompted to be pro-active and, like Scouts teach us, “be prepared” for the way things are not how we wish they’d be.

Here’s the good news.

God is alive and active among those who still want/get Him.

He remains our refueling and reinvigorating and regenerating refuge.

He is our solid rock foundation amid the increasing instabilities of life in the modern world.

He is our powerful parent without parallel for provision, protection, and promise beyond parameters.

God is God and God is on our side!

Yes, there are lots and lots and lots of changes and challenges; and in the midst of all the meanness, madness, misery, and miscreance, God’s love for us remains constant.

Yeah, let’s hear that tender truth again through Isaiah: “As a mother comforts her child, so I’ll comfort you.”

Here’s the good news: “Darkness cannot overcome the Lord’s light…My children, you have come from God and have conquered these spirits because the One who lives within you is greater than the one in this world…Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.”

Of course, as Luther cautioned, Satan is “a clever trickster” and its accomplices are sneaky, secretive, slimy, and slithering among the faithful like sleeper cells: “It/they come as angels of light.” Jesus said, “They are wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

Denise Frangipane: “Satan is a master of illusions. He plays upon our weaknesses and exaggerates our problems.” It/they come at our moments of vulnerability.

Certainly, victory is guaranteed for people who really believe in Jesus and are intimate with Him; or as Francis Frangipane wrote, “How do we defeat the enemy? Victory begins with the name of Jesus on our lips. It is consummated by the nature of Jesus in our hearts.”

Moretheless, Paul used the metaphor of a Roman soldier preparing for battle to remind us of how/why we can live victoriously (read Ephesians 6:10-20).

Here’s an example of how to pray with Paul’s metaphor as a guide:

Lord, I thank You for providing all I need to live victoriously!

You are all I need to live victoriously!

Aware of the dark influences conspiring to move my mind from You,

I close the psychic door; barricading it with the cross of Christ and sealing it with His blood. Knowing You have granted volition to me, I only open this door for You.

I wear the helmet of salvation which is lined with the promises of Your affection and protection. Making all thoughts captive to You and protecting my mind which is a battleground for spiritual warfare, this helmet covers my ears, eyes, and mouth so I do not hear, see, or speak

in unGodly ways. I will not entertain anyone/anything that distracts me from Your holiness.

I place the breastplate of righteousness over my heart which is the wellspring of my life. This is not my goodness. It is Your great graciousness that protects me.

I wear Your belt of truth. Your truth protects me.

I wear Your gospel shoes of peace; therefore, I can stand firm, balanced,

and always ready to follow You. Firmly footed, I look up, stand up, speak up, and act up for You.

I take the shield of faith, my trust and confidence in You as saving Lord,

and all other dark strategies. With the hinges of this shield, I am linked

to all of the saints for protection of family, home, possessions, and

church.

I wield the Sword of the Spirit which is the Bible. The Bible contains

Your pure prescriptions for living victoriously. Defensively, I can distinguish Your light from darkness because of the Bible. Offensively, I can bring Your love, light, and salt into the world because of the Bible.

I wrap myself in the mantle of praise because You “inhabit” the praises of Your people. As my praises go up, Your blessings come down.

I place Your cross before me as a banner and guide. I have decided to follow You! No turning back! The cross before me! The world behind me! No turning back! Though none go with me, yet I will follow You!

No turning back!

Thank You, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, for protecting and preserving me from here to eternity as I pray in Your holy, holy, holy name. Amen.

In short, as Luther taught us to sing victoriously, “One little word shall fell him!…Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He!…And He must win the battle!”

Or as many have done so victoriously when it/they come knocking at the door, “Jesus, please get that for me. Thank You!”

After over four decades of counseling mostly frustrated males whose wives have lost interest in you know who/what in direct violation of 1 Corinthians 7 that, surprisingly, even evangelical, fundamental, and Pentecostal women seem to ignore more than "unchurched" women flirting with the dark side, I'm always stunned by wives rarely though increasingly husbands who can't figure out why their husbands are gettin' what they ain't gettin' at home from someone somewhere else.

Actually, a very conservative Christian woman once said to me, "Obviously, Paul said that about sex. He's a man."

So much for Biblical authority/inspiration.

I won't even bring up my favorite book in 8th grade sandwiched between Ecclesiastes and Isaiah.

There are lots of people who say they follow Jesus by the book as long as He agrees with 'em.

Look at mainline denominations as the poster child of that horizontal theology.

Uh, anyway, that's why I must be missing something with the plethora of those ED ads.

Who the heaven needs that stuff because from what I hear...?

Well, the preceding is supposed to be a segue to re-hydrating fumas.

If you've neglected the counsel in #10 or a well-meaning-non-snob has given a fuma as brittle as Comey's ego to you, here are a few tips on massaging 'em back to life:

1. First, remember, in a Roberta Flack kinda way, it'll never be as good as it was when receiving meticulous and consistent attention;

2. Don't let 'em, uh, get, uh, dry in the first place;

3. Disregarding previous metaphorical references in this alert, never do anything that will cause your fuma to get wet because that could lead to mold and mold is the VD of tobacco;

4. Put 'em in a freezer bag with drenched cloths - don't let 'em touch through the night like some wives who... - until they pass the pinch test;

5. I've heard some snobs put 'em in an open freezer bag - pero steam not liquid, uh, reinvigorates the stick - on a shower shelf and keep showering with 'em until they're, uh, moistening;

6. When you buy 'em, put 'em in a humidor and pay attention to the tips in #10; and

7. Don't forget it's a slow process to, uh, uh, uh,...

Tautologically, fumas require constant attention to stay up to the standards of cigar snobs like us.

The train of common sense and courtesies has left the station and they ain't on it.

Victims of poor potty training or just being a few fries short of a happy meal or something, they're easy to spot because they're so dang, uh, ignorant.

They don't take off their hats in restaurants, please and thank you aren't in their vocabs, the ladies before gentlemen ethic is as alien to them as appeal when it comes to Joy Behar, and they belch, fart, and pick their noses in public.

Then there's cellular harassment.

Talk about ignorant buttwads.

At a recent funeral in our church, cellulars went off several times and interrupted the service.

Parenthetically, the miscreants were former members of the church who giggled when their opiod substitutes went off which reminded me that they were/are so ignorant that I had to take the church away from them and give it back to Jesus because they are so dang, uh, ignorant.

Really, the family and friends of the dearly departed don't want to hear somebody's ringtone of "Goodbye, Earl!" or "This is the End" or "Sweet Home Alabama" during a reading of Psalm 23; and it's rather gauche to hear "Send in the Clowns" or "Why Don't We Do It In the Road" or "Let's Give Them Something to Talk About" during weddings; though I can just see behind the smiles of some brides as they're singing to themselves in remembrance of "romance" that often ends during vows at the steps of the chancel, "This will be the last time. This will be the last time. May be the last time I don't know..."

That last quote is from the Stones if you're ignorant.

Really, being ignorant doesn't mean you're going to hell. It just means you bring a lot of it into the lives of those around you and you should dust it off and memorize Matthew 7:12.

So here are a few tips on etiquette for cigar snobs like us.

1. Don't smoke in a cage with the windows up unless you didn't want to take your spouse along in the first place.

2. Only really, really, really cheap SOBs bring their own fumas into cigar lounges and light 'em up without dropping a dime in the shop.

4. If you bite off the end of your favorite fuma in front of Anderson Cooper, you may get a puff if you know what I mean; pero everybody else will think you're about as cultured and clean as Miley Cyrus or Ashley Judd.

5. Don't Monica Lewinsky your cigar. That may be fine on a date but looks gross on the back porch and freaks out Pauline and Freudian influenced guys.

6. Cigar holders are like condoms. They may work but slow and cut down on the pleasure.

7. Don't crush and mutilate your fuma in an ashtray when you're done. Just let it die a natural death...like republican democracy and churches in America.

8. Unless you've got enough for everybody, don't say you're about to ignite a Cuban Cuban. It's like saying you're gettin' some when you know your buds ain't and you force 'em to break the 10th.

9. Even if you think it's a turd, don't say it's a turd while someone is smokin' one and appearin' to like it or gave it to you.

10. Gentlemen give cigars as gifts and always bring enough to share. I was going to say something about the late 60s and 70s pero,,,

11. If it ain't yours, don't stick it up your nose like a crack head or anything related to #5.

Yeah, I've read Emily Post and she has a lot of good things to say about a lot of stupid stuff; like, you know, how to conduct yourself in a restaurant and eat like a fag. BTW, if you look at pictures of her and read about her life with any telepathy, you'll swear her children prove the virgin birth of Jesus.

Anyway, Churchill may have said it best about etiquette: "The best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with the average voter."

Moretheless, while I've always thought February is the invention of poneros, especially after reading Revelation 42:66, my upper-octogenarian dad recently caught my attention when I was bantering and moaning about this annually wretched mistake in creation and wishing it were over: "Son, enjoy every day because you never know..."

Ouch.

Someday everybody will return from the funeral but you or me.

Gulp.

So I'm not into postponing.

Counseling one of the few peers left if you know what I mean, he asked what I do to relax.

He knows I never take a day off unless I'm out of town and rarely work under...

I told him that it used to be...

Then I recalled Twain who said he preferred cigars to...because they last longer and don't talk back.

Anyway, I talked about OBEs in worship and prayer, visiting family in Pennsylvania, listening to my sons and wife more than less, playing 9 with Billy, riding Return2 with my brothers, driving a truck for the short or long haul, and combusting fumas with...

Psst.

I've counseled some wives who complain about their husbands who take regular visits to Cuba; and I've said it's because they haven't taken enough trips with 'em to the tune of Solomon's song with added lyrics by the aforementioned Twain.

So here's the poll.

If an angel or its boss told you that the roll had been called up yonder pour vous, what would be resting between your index finger and thumb on the back porch?

Etiquette?

Yeah, I'll get to it; though I will be talking about "Common Courtesies" via Matthew 7:12 on Sunday at 7:20 or 9:50 in the sanctuary or via www.bnnsradio.com

I was going to write about etiquette; but then I watched CNN, NBC, MSNBC, ABC, Fox, and CBS juxtaposed to some print rags after Trump's State of the Union and figured I'd be too tempted to say some really naughty things about Nancy, Charles, Anderson, Rachel, Chris, Maxine, Frederico, Turbin, John, Jeff, and...

Really, are they the poster children for @#$%holes or what?

What did Trump call those ungrateful-filthy-rich-for-playing-kids'-games guys who wouldn't stand for the national anthem?

Reminds me of our social-engineering antagonists who inspire recollection of a conversation between two famous shrinks who would recommend committal for 'em all.

Parenthetically, ask yourself, "Who reminds you more of our founding mothers and fathers? 44 or 45?"

Ever read about 'em?

Ever read 'em?

You'll discover 45 not 44 or 43 or 42 or 41 is more like Adams, Hamilton, Franklin, et al than any of those spinelessly femininized wussburgers.

Hello!

We're living in the real world with real dangers and it takes more than knowing how to lead a rap group on the South Side of Chicago to preserve life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Geez.

Sorry.

Anyway, two CSs have been telling me to turn this into a subscription blog.

Hello!

Check sales for my books.

Nada.

They've also told me along with two local clergymen - and I mean exceptionally manly male clergy who really get undershepherding in the spirit of Psalm 23 and Matthew 10:16 and wonder what the anything but heaven is happening to the BSA and its previous commitment to manly men transforming boys into men, disciples, and citizens - that I should start selling my cooked Parodi Kings (about 4+ inches with somewhere around 34 ring gauge).

Really, think about it.

I can't even generate enough dinero to dump Buddha for a 150.

Do you know how many fumas that I'd have to sell to, uh, almost anything?

That's why I assume the gentleman's approach to my cooked babies.

I present them as gifts; but more on that when I get to etiquette if not still POed at the idiots in the DNC, GOP, print and screen media.

First things first.

Confession.

You saw my 2017 ratings (12).

If not or you don't remember, scroll down and note the last few words: "...and my go-to-cook-my-own B&B-infused Parodi..."

No one puts out better cigars as cost-effectively as the Avanti Cigar Company of Scranton, Pennsylvania.

Anyone who has ever lit a Parodi knows what I'm talking about and everyone who has been blessed with my very own infused recipe has asked for more and even offered to pay bigger $ for 'em.

While I like an occasional Drew Estate infused fuma, I'm not really into candy canes and neither are my closest CSs; however, all of 'em covet more of my babies.

Parenthetically, let me tell you about Avanti.

I grew up in NE Pennsylvania and started smoking Parodi cigars when I was 19 without even knowing they have been the favorites of iconic puffers like Frank Sinatra and Francis Ford Coppola with the former heralding, "There are those who like the fresh outdoors; but give me a room filled with Parodi smoke!"

Avanti has been blending the best little 100% U.S. selected tobacco sticks since 1901 - an important or thereabouts date to H-D idolaters - when Dominic Anthony and Frank Suraci came from Italy to set up shop in Scranton and birth a legend.

Treat yourself to a trip through a big part of fuma history along with a review of their selections and an introduction to their unique process as the only producer of dry-cured cigars in America using only American-grown tobacco from Kentucky and Tennessee by clicking on www.avanticigar.com. I think you can order directly from customerservice@avanticigar.com or, at least, you'll hear about pushers near vous.

Getting back to my coveted babies, there are many ways to infuse a cigar.

Some just get a cookie sheet, dump some turds on it for some kinda reincarnation, pour their favorite booze on 'em, stack 'em in a plastic container or stuff 'em in a freezer bag, let 'em sit until they're not dripping or too damp, and light 'em up.

Others take decent but not pricey stogies, dip or drip or dab or douse or dunk 'em, stack 'em or stuff 'em, let 'em sit until they're not dripping or damp, and light 'em up.

Yo?

I go to the mothership in Scranton or Smokin' Joe's Tobacco in Wilkes-Barre when visiting the upper octogenarians, pick up 50+ for under 50, dip each end in B&B, stack 'em in a Tupperware rectangular, put a healthy shot in with 'em, let 'em sit for about three months or until every drop of the precious nectar is absorbed by the fumas, and then play gentleman and pass 'em out...while, of course, penultimately passing them through my personal quality control chef (moi).

BTW, I smoked ___'s of Parodis long before I infused 'em and they're much better than most other higher priced cigars au naturale.

Yet, if some brothers are right and I think they are 'cause I agree with 'em, my recipe takes 'em to the next level.

So, as Walter White would say, "Let's cook!"

Now that I'm feeling better and can't wait to get to the back porch and crack open that Tupperware later today, yeah, maybe etiquette next time.

While I'm always eager to be corrected by Jesus, Holy Scripture, and common sense - Even about the fumas! - I also hope you never doubt my agape that I pray and labor to express through grace, mercy, forgiveness, and reconciling ambition.

Actually, once you've piled up as many pension credits as I have, it's really quite easy to reverse Bob Seger's chronology: "So you're a little bit older and a lot less bolder than you used to be!"

When you've got as many pension credits piled up as I do, there's not much that ecclesiastical superiors, inferiors, subordinates, and other dolts can do to you.

Finally, I can really live how I counsel young pastors and just about anybody else: "You're damned if you do and damned if you don't. How liberating! If you're damned if you and damned if you don't, you may as well do what you heaven well think is the right thing to do according to Jesus by the book!"

On the local scene, because retirement is for people who hate their vocations or aren't able to do it anymore for emotional or physical challenges and make people around them as miserable as they are becoming, I'd have no problems turning in the keys if the church wanted somebody else with a warning that, for the most part with exceptions to the rule that I wrote about in the most current www.koppdisclosure.com, millennials, GenXers, and most baby boomers have the work ethic of blood hounds. I put in at least 70 hours a week; and though I know I will never meet the unrealistic expectations of some for a BFF, champion, paramour, liberal/conservative bigot, or whatever the anything but heaven's on their minds, yeah, go ahead if you think you can find someone who will love and care for you better than moi.

That's not arrogant.

That's fact.

Of course, never take on the church kitchen ladies.

I keep telling young pastors and male members/staff/officers to be careful with 'em.

Yeah, they talk too much and have hyper-control needs and have this my-way-or-the-highway attitude about 'em; but they work harder than the men in the church, always get things done, and pay the bills. Besides, you don't have to argue with them about much because they're always arguing among themselves.

So if you're still reading, let me tell you something else about our snobby culture.

CSABPs are mostly for manly men and those very, very, very few and decreasing #s of American women who still want manly men in the chair, between the sheets, and in the lead rather than, uh, guys like Obama, Anderson, Mitch, Lindsey, Joe, Chris, Michael, Marilyn Manson, and...

You know what I'm talking about; and if you don't, you've been smoking more than fumas or overdosed on PC Kool-Aid.

So here's a CSABP truism for CSs who can handle the truth with the colonel.

While there are female posers on iron ponies and collared women in pulpits and hotties or notties lighting up stogies to make whatever kinda Helen Reddy or Ashley Judd statement that's igniting 'em, never underestimate the authentic women on bikes, in robes, and settlin' in with a favorite fuma.

And, psst, let's be honest.

When you've got a woman who is authentically riding and waxing and puffing and..., it's, uh, gulp, sigh, be careful, don't say anything right now as the pendulum goes way left, uh,...really...sexy.

Probably the most sophisticated rating system has been developed by CA; and though I really, really, really like the rag, sometimes its ratings are subjectively if not suspiciously related to their advertisers.

It's like some churches.

Bigger givers get more attention.

It's the truth.

Ergo, let's give a pass to CA.

Still, let's start with another truism.

Your treasure may be somebody else's turd and vice versa.

For example, there's only one RP that I like and I really, really, really like it: Special Reserve Sun Grown Maduro.

The rest of 'em, in my estimation disputed even by my friends, are overrated.

Be that as it is, here's how I rate my fumas:

1. Money is not a factor! I've smoked some really expensive pieces of ___ and I've smoked some really inexpensive sticks that are consistently satisfying. If you let money dictate your preferences, it means you're as superficial as Christian posers who think fancy buildings, big endowments, preachers with worthless degrees and finely adorned vestments with appointed/accentuated stripes, and other idolatries somehow equate to authenticity, substance, and satisfaction;

2. While I have never smoked anything better than a Cohiba Behike and covet a Partagas Lusitania, give me any Padron over any Cuban Punch or anything exported by Villager. In other words, Habana Cuba on the band doesn't guarantee an orgasmic oasis;

3. While fumas smoke in thirds with each being a little to distinctly different from the preceding or following, I have given up on any of 'em that aren't totally satisfactory because I'm not into any part of my life being 30% turd;

4. Though some of my favorites require massaging and an occasional hook, pick, or drill, I prefer a full and easy draw with an even burn and get PO'ed if I have to keep reaching for ignition;

5. I've never been inclined to masochism, sadism, or auto-suggestion; meaning if it doesn't taste good in my mouth, through my nose, and when I'm twirling it with my tongue, it's outta here;

6. Ever sit next to someone with BO? Ever have someone come forward for the sacrament with bad breath? Ever visit an 8th grade lockerroom? Ever been to Fisherman's Wharf? If I can't get past the smell, I ain't gonna put it in my mouth or take a swipe at it with my tongue;

7. If you like it, who cares about the ash? I know some folks have fetishes about ashes. Not me. Some folks say a white ash is better than a grey or brown ash. Not me. It's all about taste and satisfaction;

8. However, if you see white powder on your fuma before ignition, chill out. It's O.K. It's plume or the excretion of tobacco oils. Wipe it off and light'er up. Note Bene! If you see a bluish stain or coloring on it, not even a condom will protect you. Stay away from it! It's mold! Sometimes even something that's seductive is riddled with disease;

10. Tightly packed or loosely packed or burning too hot or not hot enough or burning too fast or not fast enough or... See the conclusion in #9;

11. Appearance and feel and... See the conclusion in #9; and

12. Do you want to smoke it again and again and again? That's the real test for me; and if I do, it gets a high rating and regular hook-ups.

I guess rating cigars is like rating lots of things.

Again, CA has the most sophisticated points system in my experience based on four categories: appearance/construction (15), smoking characteristics (25), flavor (25), and overall impression (35); yet, really, it's still a pretty subjective system.

If I want to avoid wasting too much money when I pull out the catalogue and start coveting, I'll ask friends about their experiences; and, occasionally, I'll go to the net and watch reviews by Cigar Obsession and Cigar Vixen with the latter being especially, uh, convincing as well as compelling. Their palates are far more discriminating than mine and I've rarely been led astray by them; though, again, the latter has moments.

Bottom line.

There's no sure way to be sure about a Cuban unless you try it out.

Content not cover.

But it's personal.

Some prefer...

Others prefer...

Some say potato, some say...

Smoke around.

Then rate 'em for yourself.

BTW, here are my always evolving top five favs for 2017 without reference to the Cohiba Behike or Partagas Lusitania that I can't afford anyway:

1. Any Padron

2. Camacho Legendaria Bertha

3. Montecristo Reserva Negra

4. Macanudo Inspirado Black

5. Rocky Patel Special Reserve Sun Grown Maduro

Alec Bradley Lost Art almost bumped #5 after just one stick and, surprisingly, the astonishingly affordable new Baccarat Belicoso Maduro is gaining ground, and my go-to-cook-my-own B&B-infused Parodi is light on the wallet and heavy on the buds.

If you haven't read "If You Are/Know A Cigar Snob" or have but are bummed out at the prospects of Oprah actually becoming P in 2020 and the subsequent outlawing of fumas as the social engineers return to power and you need some refreshment - Me too! - just go to the 12/15/17 edition of www.koppdisclosure.com, go to the right column (Blog Archive), and click 'er on.

Uh, no, change that!

Don't click 'er on...or you'll be accused of something by someone...like one of Oprah's guests.

I don't know about you but those Ashley, Gloria, and Taylor chicks really don't turn me on; unless, maybe, I was on a deserted island for 20 years without my wife.

BTW, have you seen those photos of Oprah making out with Harvey Weinstein?

I remember studying upokrisis (transliteration of Greek word for hypocrisy) while working for some worthless degree and...

Anyway, great videos in that edition for cigar snobs like us.

Can't understand why the best website for news impacting modern ministry - www.churchandworld.com - didn't carry that one because there was a lot of sneaky theology/ecclesiology/venting in there like the last one on annual reports.

I'm starting to get the hint about my publishing prospects.

Some recent Q&A:

Illinois: "Why don't you charge for these?" You keep asking and I keep telling you to look at my book sales. O.K., send me some Cohiba Behikes if you're feeling guilty.

California: "I like your recent post on humidors, but what's your favorite strategy?" Just throw in some Boveda packets! Check out www.cheaphumidors.com!

I think the next edition will be on ratings.

I would suggest you don't share it with Oprah, Ashley, Gloria, Taylor, Anderson, Rachel, Dick, Tammy, Chris, Joe or his...

If Santa or, uh, self were good to you, you're going to need more space in the inn (Get it?) to store your new stock.

While my favorite dealer is www.thompsoncigar.com where you can always pick up a little free humidor with some box purchases, the best source/supplier for taking good care of your babies is www.cheaphumidors.com.

www.cheaphumidors.com, a fun site to check out on the dumbphone especially when caffeine ain't sufficient during those insufferable clergy, council, civic, community, school board/bored or other political assemblies, has an unmatched selection of quality and cost-effective humidors along with lots of accessories and "how to" videos for seasoning, setting up, and calibrating.

Historical parenthesis.

John Adams to Thomas Jefferson on Congress and aforementioned kinda kin meetings: "...drudgery of the most wasting, exhausting, consuming kind."

It may be my ghetto, but I think so many clergy break the big ten's 1-3 and 7 because it's hard for the libido not to wander during such mindless chatter from the ozone layer of reality with two feet planted firmly in the air.

Anyway, if you're like me and stockpiling fumas with ammo, H2O, and food in prep for the imminent eschaton, you're going to need a bigger humidor for favs and at least one more to host those candy canes so your favs aren't unequally yoked.

Uh, oh, yeah,...humidors.

A humidor is a box to store fumas in a tropical climate.

While snobs like us prefer cedar wood, plastic, plexiglas, freezer bags, or Tupperware and relatives will work as long as they're sealed and have humidifying elements inside to maintain freshness and flavor; and, again, www.cheaphumidors.com has the best options on that with a video explaining the pros and cons of each.

Of course, like palates when it comes to ratings, you will find as much diversity on the math as H-D techs provide for iron pony shoe air pressure.

While most folks say 65-75 is the range for relative humidity, CA says 65-70 while I've always preferred 69.

Noting www.cheaphumidors.com has a great selection of hygrometers to gauge relative humidity - I don't trust those inaccurate and hard to calibrate boogers that come attached to most boxes - you can buy 'em at most hardware stores; but go to www.cheaphumidors.com first FYI.

Getting back to humidifying elements, everybody has their prejudices from Boveda packs to crystals to humidity beads, humidor sticks, floral foam in those cheap plastic containers that come with most humidors or found in funeral home and church chancel vases, or just sticking a shot glass of distilled water in the box while making sure that you don't piss on your puppies because you never dampen directly unless you've got a turd and will try anything to make it worth ignition.

Daily monitoring is the best and I use a combination of all kinda elements to keep 'em at my preferred math; and when I dip below or drip over the range, it's a kairos moment to take 'em all out, reshuffle, inspect, detect, and let 'em breathe a bit.

Traveling is no problem; and whether using a nifty travel case that you've picked up from www.cheaphumidors.com or just stuck 'em in a freezer bag, Boveda packs are the most convenient and safest as elements and fumas should never touch regardless of previous permission as it will scream harassment sooner or later.

In a pinch while traveling, just moisten a paper towel or piece of sponge or floral foam, put it in a smaller bag without sealing it, and stick 'er in.

Prophylactics prevent disease.

Speaking of pinches, I still like the "pinch test" when checking a shipment, buying from one of those retail joints, or checking to see if my humidor is O.K.

Here's how to do that.

Placing the fuma between your thumb and index finger, press slightly.

If it's Jethro Tullian thick/stiff as a brick, it may be good for Hillary's husband yet dry and stale aka dehydrated. You can try to bring it back to life. Good luck! And being that Calvinists don't believe in luck, you've learned a valuable lesson.

If it's got soft spongy spots, it's pret' near as useless and impotent as 41-44.

Here's the deal.

If you take care of 'em, they'll take care of you.

The life of a cigar is indefinite as long as it's stored properly.

Heaven, there are pre-Fidelians around to die for.

While you should never end a sentence with a preposition, you should never leave a cigar unattended.

Before I get to that, I was introduced to Cuban fumas back in the early 70s while studying in Heidelberg.

No embargo.

Well, I'd almost forgotten how much I liked 'em as I bought into the self-gratifying-market-deluding sentiment that transplanted seeds into foreign soils across the water from the island have resulted in fumas as good as and sometimes even better than Cuba's most renowned export apart from liberation theology.

It's kinda like saying, "I just bought a new artificial plastic evergreen with real Christmas spirit because I'm tired of taking Lassie out to look for a tree."

O.K., maybe, occasionally, rarely close...but no, uh, cigar.

Sorry.

It's kinda like saying, 'Yeah, those New Jersey Vidalia onions are just as good as the ones from Georgia."

Not!

Anyway, my favorite-mayor-of-all-time gave a Cohiba Behike 56 to me for Christmas and I had an OBE with it on the way back from UW Hospital Madison on Tuesday night.

Burned my fingers to the nails!

The word awesome just doesn't quite capture the transcendence.

Don Norek - go to the archives of www.koppdisclosure.com to read up on one of my continuing heroes - would treat me to a Cuban Cuban every once in a while; so I wasn't completely out of the loop pero that was infrequent because he'd also pawn off clones to moi with a wink. Sooooooo if you can get your hands and spirit on one of those pre-et-post Castro babies, indulge!

O.K., some feedback.

Pennsylvania: On dealing with aftertaste if you're fortunate enough to have someone who wants to stick her/his tongue down your throat: "Bourbon mouthwash - preferably 101 or higher." BC, Digger, and Judge have said the same thing to me.

Illinois: "You're killing me, man! And I can't believe you are giving these away!" Nice. Appreciate it. But have you seen my book sales? In one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, I'm running behind the toothy guy from Texas in sales by about ten trillion to one. Wouldn't mind a nod from Thompson but not holding my breath except for a Cohiba Behike 56.

Pennsylvania: "Why don't you start a website like your other one?" Because webmaster Kathie is kind enough with www.koppdisclosure.com and I don't know if this string is too, uh, masculine for, uh, broader appeal. I mean, really, I think some of the things that you like about CSAFTBP would get you into trouble if you ever uttered 'em in front of what, I guess, according to professors and papers and journalists and sissy clerics and other politicians marching to the beat of Gloria's tambourine, is the much more fragile of the genders. Notice I said genders. From what I hear from mainline ecclesiastical franchises and the ACLU, God remains wrong. There are a lot more than two.

Missouri: "I've been forwarding these to friends. Is that O.K.?" Sure. With my fan base, beggars can't be choosers; but if you have 'em, send their e-mail addresses to me and I'll put 'em on the first edition mailing list and they won't have to trust your discretion. Uh, wait a second. I'll probably be accused of some kinda harassment if I send them unsolicited. It's happened with www.koppdisclosure.com as cupcakes and snowflakes can't handle Jessup's assumption. So have them send their addresses to me and I'll hook 'em up. But, again, forward away! Hey, send some to Thompson and CA but not Megyn Kelly or doe-eyed Rachel Maddog.

South Dakota: "How often are you going to send these out? I really like them. They're better than the serious things that you write." Great. Just great. Maybe that's why my denomination won't let me speak at their self-gratifying biennials. Not surprised. Peterson, Bright, Ogilvie, Evans, Larson, Lovelace, Gagnon, Legvold, and...weren't 'good' enough for 'em. I wonder if Calvin or Farel or Luther or Bullinger or Barth or Bonhoeffer or even Paul or John or even... Per your interrogative, when I feel like it; which usually happens when I'm tired of babysitting, refereeing, officiating, pontificating, deliberating, consoling, consulting, defecating, inspecting, injecting, detecting, or cleaning the restrooms and collecting the trash while we wait for our new custodian to start.

Alabama: "I was offended by your insinuations about Alabama in the last edition." Join the club. I live for that. Salt. Light. Leaven. Get it? You need to talk to my dad to figure out what I'm trying to say. After I voted for McGovern, he said, "Son, now I know I don't have to worry about you. You don't need drugs!" Speaking of Ps, my favorites are 1, 16, 35, and 40 with JFK being the best because he had much better taste in, uh, uh, uh, fumas than even, uh, uh, uh, Bubba who can be excused because of being married to you know who and, most important, 35 had the common sense to stock up on authentic Upmanns when he had the chance which, of course, he did because he knew when he was going to make sure that proletarians like moi had to study in Germany to get 'em. BTW, will someone puhhhlease teach Maxine how to pronounce 45? She reminds me of the chick who kept talking about "Eric Clapner. I like Eric Clapner."

O.K., that's it for the first feedback edition.

If Santa is kinder to me than he's been to Alabama, you should get the next edition before the 1st.

Merry Christmas!

It is about Jesus, uh, you used to know, uh, no matter what your local school board or Rahm says.

BTW, Rahm?

Does that guy have no shame or what?

Him criticizing anyone anywhere about anything related to leadership is like me telling my favorite/personal mechanic Jason how to fix the truck that I don't have.

I would have thought you'd learned something from the last candidates for POTUS.

The guy who won can't keep his hands off, uh, uh, uh, Twitter and the, uh, whazzzzzzztheword, uh, uh, oh, yeah, gal who lost is the antidote for sexual harassment.

Alabama was worse - sissy or Allen/Brooks phallic symbol.

I guess we'll see.

Too bad.

Anyway, if you're not going to come through with a Ford 150 or big plastic card to Woodstock Harley-Davidson or Marengo Guns or box of favorite fumas, please hold off on anything related to Crimson Ridge, A&F, Ulta, Bath and Body Works, Megyn Kelly, or any of those restaurants hawking rabbit food for anorexics.

No books about either Obama; though any book by Chernow, Metaxas, or Vonnegut that I haven't read is cool.

I don't want any more evolved gravy rags aka ties. Medieval. Really, think about it. They look stupid. Yeah, I know some women like 'em because they're so tight around our necks and encourage that Janis Joplin song about balls and chains and soccer moms like gayish guys more than manish ones with closely/neatly cropped facial hair; but I don't wear 'em that much anymore and may have even forgotten how to get that bourgeoisified dimple in there to satisfy the fashion police.

No subscriptions, please, to news magazines or papers. I'm so tired of the man-hater columnists who flatter themselves into thinking anyone would want to harass 'em and, while I'm no Trumper because the Christian in me ain't into idolatries unless it's a real Partagas or Punch or Cohiba from Cuba , the Freudian in me suspects guys like Robinson, Anderson, Joe, John, anyone at the NYTs and WP and Time and Newsweek and MSNBC and most local rags, et.al. have insatiable man-crushes on him.

Really, isn't that what's fashionable in America these days?

It slays me to admit this; but maybe that's among the myriad of maddening reasons why Muslims like America about as much as bacon-topped pork tenderloins.

I can buy my own underwear and socks.

I eat too much as it is.

Gas?

I've got enough of that.

If You're not coming up with one of those Animal House "Thank You, God!" serendipities, how about a Mary moment in the true spirit of the season: "And Mary kept all these things; pondering them in her heart"?

Yeah, I'd like that.

I'd just like time to sit on the back porch and think about Jesus and who He is and what He has done for us and our salvation by grace through faith.

That's really enough for me.

Time off and alone with Jesus.

Of course, if you've got an extra Partagas Lusitania and bottle of B&B in that sack while I'm sitting on the...

Pero, of course, that may be hard to explain to somebody who just stuck her...uh, whoa, geez, gulp, gasp, sigh, uh, uh, uh...or his tongue in your mouth.

Frankly, after too much marital and post-marital psychospiritualtherapy for too long, I've reached the conclusion that the challenge cited in the previous sentence-paragraph is about as common as veracity in government, media, education, entertainment, jurisprudence, and, alas, too many churches where it seems too many pulpiteers and pewsitters have forgotten Christianity is about, uh, Jesus.

Be that as it is, there are exceptions to the rule; and while exceptions to the rule are called exceptions to the rule because they occur so infrequently that they are called exceptions to the rule, I will assume there are some cigar snobs who know somebody who wants to stick her/his tongue in their mouths without dealing with an aftertaste that they not us find repugnant.

Parenthetically, one of the graces for cigar snobs like us of not having anyone interested in sticking her/his tongue in our mouths is savoring the aftertaste of a righteous fuma.

Pero, again, if you do have somebody who wants to stick her/his tongue in your mouth après a fuma but doesn't like the aftertaste and you want to do something about it so she/he will stick her/his tongue in your mouth, here are some suggestions.

Garlic works yet presents a whole set of new challenges.

Hydrogen peroxide kinda works; and it's cheap with the down side being bleaching tongue hairs.

Baking soda, in my opinion, is kinda the best; as long as you brush the roof of your mouth, gums, tongue, under the tongue, inside the cheeks, teeth, down your throat, tonsils if still hanging in, and everywhere else within reach. Then gargle!

Notice I qualified each suggestion with kinda.

The preceding hypothetical solutions only minimize aftertaste.

The only way to eliminate aftertaste is to do lots of the above, shower, and sleep it off; knowing cigar snobs will start all over again in a few hours after the alarm sounds.

Truth is a righteous fuma leaves an aftertaste that cigar snobs savor while others abhor.

A: "Aside from the serene soul OBE via an oasis apart from life's meanness, madness, misery, and miscreance, your thumb, index, and middle fingers will start burning as you hold out for the last draw of the heavenly dispensation, baking soda will be put on hold, and you'll run to the can for a completely cleansing dump."

Or something like that.

It starts with lighting it.

First things first.

Dogs are bitten and cigars are clipped.

After clipping off the cap only and not slicing into the body with your favorite cutter - I like a double-bladed guillotine but carry a punch for box/square-pressed favs - there are several options for ignition.

When they're working, I prefer butane-filled lighters. They're odorless, colorless, quick, complete, and conclusive. Buuuuuuut notice I said I prefer them when they're working. Coupled with shopping for fuel and fueling up and carrying around more crap than convenient, they are fickle and tend not to work on cold days which is a challenge in areas like the northern stateline of Illinois during our 7-9 months of winter.

Zippo fluid-filled lighters are the coolest. How about that sound when you open and close 'em? Awesome! As long as they're filled and the flints are fresh, they're more reliable than their butane brothers. Buuuuuuut ya gotta buy fluid and ya gotta have extra flints and lighter fluid can, on occasion if you're not careful, taint the first puff or three with the same chemical taste that ruins burgers flavored with charcoal and, uh, lighter fluid.

Paper matches work; buuuuuuut, again, they have chemical additives that sometimes sneak into the first or third draw annnnnnnd they're short and tend to burn your fingers before they light your fuma.

Wooden matches, especially for snobs like us, are the best! Classic, consistent, not corrupted following the nano-second of combustion, cheap, and available at your nearest dollar store.

More tips.

Don't put the cigar into the flame!

With gentle puffs, draw the heat from the flame into the cigar!

It will take a few seconds longer but will result in an entire ring-size glow for a smooth and even smoke.

BTW, Thompson's December 2017 snail-mail-hard-copy-best-potty-reading-ever catalogue has one of the best deals ever for one of my standards and one about to crack the top five. Their "Double Down" offer, pairing two premiums at discounted prices, is featuring, among many other worthy selections, a Montecristo Reserva Negra and Macanudo Inspirado Black combo for under $40. O.K., that's $.05 under $40 yet it's a superb opportunity for cigar snobs like us.

Preferences for cigar snobs are as diverse as detailing iron ponies for road warriors.

One man's treasure is another man's turd.

For example, have you ever smoked a CA 90+ rated stick and thought it was a White Owl?

Point is palates are diverse.

Recently, I went through it again.

Twice.

I've never been a big RP guy; but his Sun Grown Maduro ain't bad.

Then there's Macanudo.

Never been a fan.

Ever since I smoked my first in 1969, I've thought they're as overrated as the Dallas Cowboys and Notre Dame.

But then Deadeye lit up a Macanudo Inspirado White pour moi. It's pretty mild but a quite pleasurable smoke for any time of the day.

Then, as part of my wife's anniversary gesture, Leslie talked to Thompson about my history and ordered 5 Macanudo Inspirado Blackies that leave one of the best aftertastes ever. While I'm still saving up for another box of Padron 7000s, I may get a box of MIBs if Santa is good to me.

Because I'm a cigar snob, I've never been into clones, seconds, or kindas.

When I think of that kinda stuff, I think of metrics and Beemers and Triumphs and Victories that will never be H-Ds; or I think of self-gratification which, uh, well, uh,...never mind.

Anyway, my wife is starting to catch on; and though she hasn't bought a truck for me or stopped joining my mom on the helmet thing which Digger says has the only benefit of casket appearance, she's ordering Cubans pour moi on important occasions.

She even gets a Thompson catalogue in her own name delivered to the house!

For our recent anniversary, she got some of those new R&Js noted below along with another 5-packer that's O.K. but wasn't listed by me annnnnnnnd, after consulting with Thompson's, she got a bundle of No. 99 Factory Throwouts.

After an early morning meeting with Adam and Brian that included my "any of 'em" favorite listed below, I headed to a meeting in Davenport, Iowa to hook up with Hans of www.churchandworld.com for fraternity and forecasting.

I took along a No 99 and was stunned by a very decent smoke highlighted by a subtle sweetness not nearly as overpowering as anything from Drew Estate, easy draw (lit once), and consistent pleasure until the last inch that reminded me of some overrated RPs.

So I investigated.

While I haven't been able to figure out who's throwin' 'em out, it's a premium producer who doesn't like the "uneven coloring" on the wrapper; ergo, it doesn't pass quality control and gets thrown out for us to pick up at unreally low prices from Thompson's.

BTW, it's a Churchill and lasted for two hours...before the last inch.

With no more golf with Billy until the thaw, no truck, and no pony, my relaxations/refuelings are limited to cellular prayer and Cubans.

Of course, I'm not into opium dens or thick-clouded-suffocating stick lounges with unavoidable alien fragrances; ergo, I've learned to bundle up and back porch it more than less though less than three seasons.

Having, uh, vented, here are a few suggestions for winter that, in our neck of the woods, should be over in less than seven months.

Unless you're cheating on your wife - "No, honey, I don't spend more than $10 a month on Cubans and you can't believe how much money I save when ordering from Tampa!" - or screwing the IRS - they deserve it - you need some inexpensive though surprisingly tasty smokes while cutting leaves and tuning up the snowblower.

Thompson is running a great deal on one of my favorite lawnboys: Quorum Double Gordo with an Ecuador-Sumatra wrapper. You can get a bundle of 20 for $55.80 with the added bonus of a Thompson Cigar 100th Anniversary Hat which is very cool. Got one! It really annoys the PC social engineering sissy leftists when you wear it at the mall and especially Barnes and Nobles or a clergy meeting. It's a good 90 minute oasis.

I'm not going to be distracted from my favorites (scroll down) while fulfilling honey-do stuff; but Quorum isn't bad during such times; and if your yard/driveway/whatever takes longer than 90 minutes, you can always tag on my favorite quick Cuban via Kentucky, Tennessee, and Scranton, Pennsylvania: Parodi! They're good for 30 minutes; and especially good if I've cooked some for you with my special B&B recipe.

Remember, time your Cubans by gauge and length and brand so you don't waste 'em.

Size does matter.

One more thing.

Unless you're a total geek, forget cyberspace and call Thompson at 800-237-2559 for the best potty-reading-break-the-10th-commandment cigar catalogue on the market.

The new R&J 1875 Anniversario Maduro, available in boxes and part of Thompson's 5-Pack Fever offerings, has moved into my top 5 along with any Padron, Montecristo Reserva Negra, Punch Gran Puro Natural, and Camacho Legendaria Bertha (can't understand why Thompson doesn't carry this one as it carries all of my other favorites at spectacular prices and special care in handling/mailing).

Really, while I imbibed my first just last night, it is really, really, really off the charts in subtle tastes, easy full draw, and lasting pleasure; except, my wife said she could smell it foruhever.

Treat yourself before the eschaton!

I expect it to be my next box purchase which should occur prior to the parousia.